To heart and mind, ignorance is kind
by yikeswhatshappenin
Summary: There are billions of faces in this world. Some genuine, some false, but all are part of the people that wear them. The universe is a cosmic dance floor, and everyone's got to find their rhythm. okay so me and my friend are writing some bullshit and we probably don't belong on this planet let alone this site so please forgive our crimes thanks
1. Chapter 1

He-Man looked up, his eyes watering from the writhing pain he was feeling in his leg. It was broken, Skeletor looked down and a tear fell down his face. His ears were ringing. The music seemed to loud, he looked around at the hundreds of people crowding him and wished that he could lose this crowd. People were talking all around him, at first he was mad but then he thought, maybe it's better this way, he knew they would hurt each other with the things they want to say anyways. Skeletor looked down at his love for the last time. "We could have been… so GOOD together, we could have felt this love forever." A tear ran down his face and landed on He-Man's gentle cheek. "But now who's gonna dance with me?" Skeletor held him close as he cried into his shoulder. Nothing more could be done. It was the end of Evangelion. Skeletor held He-Man close for the last time and screamed at the top of his lungs, "PLEASE STAY!" Nonetheless it was too late, He-Man was gone, and it was all his fault. Skeletor knew he was never going to dance again, As much as he tried his guilt overcame him an he knew once and for all, that guilty feet have got no rhythm.

Paul


	2. Chapter 2

Karkat wiped his muddy sneakers on the pavement near the bus stop. He had had to walk across what had felt like a fucking golf course of grass in order to reach his station because it had rained very recently, and there were so many worms on the sidewalk that he cringed to even think of stepping on any. He tentatively stepped a little closer to the gutter and heard a distinct squelching sound under his soles. Fuck. This day was already going great.

He checked his phone for the time. 9:12 am. God dammit, he was so screwed. He couldn't be late to his women's studies class for the fifth time this month or his professor would have his ass. Part of a balanced breakfast. He let out a deep breath that he was fully mindful of having held to let out some of the tension in his gut. Karkat started trying to do some of those breathing exercises his therapist was telling him about. In two three four, out two three four. He got through about two and a half cycles of that before he succumbed to the urge to relentlessly chew on the nails of his index and middle finger.

A screeching noise tore him out of his anxious stupor to alert him to the arrival of the bus. It was fairly punctual, not with the time written on the bus schedule of course (because fuck your time, right, love American public transport), but with the timing of the weather. As soon as Karkat and the small gathering of fellow passengers had boarded, the windshield wipers started pumping as water cascaded down the windows and drummed a cheerful rhythm on the roof of the vehicle. Karkat took his seat in the middle-back part of the bus, trying desperately to ignore everyone else. He shoved his shitty Apple earbuds into his audio vents and withdrew his cell phone out of his hoodie pocket. He tried to blast his music juuuuust loud enough for it to not bleed through the buds and advertise his music taste to the rest of the bus's population.

After a few minutes of staring listlessly at the unrecognizable shapes of home through the rainy filter of the window, Karkat decided to gain some visual stimulation through the human activity known as "people-watching." He glanced around the other inhabitants of the bus. God, this town was so fucking weird. From what he attempted to gather in his hectic first few weeks of living here, the city was some kind of haven for people who were "displaced from time and space." Encountering alternate versions of selves was common, as was encountering just about everything else you could name. There was a figure that could only be described as a melting skeleton near the back of the bus. He managed to recognize someone in a fursuit a couple aisles away, an orange canine monstrosity who worked at the 7-11. Only, he was pretty sure the fursuit was grafted to their skin. And a little closer, a tiny human girl where the left half of her face was torn open to reveal a blinking red light and metal scaffolding, Terminator-style. Weird and wrong.

At first, Karkat didn't exactly believe the rumors flying around about the enigmatic nature of the town, as from all appearances, it seemed entirely normal. He moved into an apartment not far from his college because rent was cheap, all the dorms were full, and he needed a place to blend in, being a troll on Earth and all. But it had become obvious that blending in wasn't an option when you were virtually the only normal-looking person around. His eyes were drawn to two humans in togas who seemed to be arguing over something, with one gesticulating emphatically. Karkat tuned them out, clicking the volume button on his phone a few times. It was all Greek to him. He closed his eyes and focused on the lyrics being fed into his mind. _Jealousy, turning saints into the sea/ Swimming through sick lullabies/ Choking on your alibis/ But it's just the price I p-_ _ **who the fuck just touched my knee**_

"HHRHHGHSHDS," Karkat articulated eloquently, struggling to wipe away the tears as he turned to the man in the seat beside him. "W-what did you say?"

"Sorry," said the bandanna-clad human in a gruff, masculine voice, "Can you plug in my phone charger? The outlet's on your side."

 **"WHAT." Ssaid carKat, who was hhaving some trouble. I CAN'T UNDERTSTANT WH** **AT ͘Y̡OU'R̶Ę ŞA̕Y̶IN̸G, ̶W͠H́Y ́AM ͜I S͟H͞OƯT̴ĮNG̀.͢ I̷ ͜ÁMM͜M S͢HOUTY͜? ̛I ̸R̢EMEM̨B͢EEŖ ̢SOMEO̵ŅE C͘A̢L̕ED̛ ̀ME͢ T̢HT O̢NCC͝E̢. ́w͟HA̴T͞'S ͝G͘O̴ING ǪN͢?͠ I ̶CN͝'͝AT̡ ͢SEE͜ ̷A͞A̕ÝONE. WH҉ER ̛ARE OW̴È ̨H̡EL͟ ṔE OF ̀HḨ̯̗͈̥̻͚̫͉̬̪̩̮̣̦͟͞͝ͅG̵̛̼̮͙͙͕̫̝̺̲͚̟̳͖̭͟͞O̶̷̺̫̻̗͖̤D͏̝̮̖̞͓͕̫̟̰͍͎̪̮̹ ̷͍͓̲͖̫͇͓̙̩̣͇̲̹̙͙͎͕̮͝H͏̫̝̥͖͖̘̖̕E͟͡͏̢͎̪͉̠̯̳̪̯̼̘̭͎͚͍͜Ĺ̛̹̲̙̫͠͠P̢̛҉̢̪̖͕̯̲̱̠̯̭͞ ҉̮̹̫̳ͅI̶̴̢̝̖̼͍̦̜̦̝̩̳̣̜̗̙̻͘T̟͕͚͈̙͓͖̙̱̤̀͢ ̵̨̘̫͚͔̳̖̣̝̱̻͙͇̞̣̘̪̣̀ͅJ̷̧͉̻͔͖̰̹̩́͝Ś̨̢̝̻͚̪̞͢͢H̴̘͙̹͙͉̳̺̰͍̹̹̼͕̙́̀͢Ư̧̳̞͈̻̞̤͕̼̱͓̠̘̫̖͉̕͡͝R̴̨͏̧̝̫̻̫̙̱̙̗͚̤̖̖͟S͚̫̥̹̻̪̟͚̯̠̫̳̤̬̼̣̭͡ ̙̜̪̭̫̀ͅ ̸̨̩̪̲̯͓̠̦̻̤̦̀͘͝O̸͚̭͇̲̜̺͕̜̹̘̟̣̤͍͘O̸͚̟̗̮̦͡O̡͈̼̲̩̩̟̯̙͍̤͢͟͡O̶̧͞҉͔͇͎̹͓̞̳̱̤̣̭̲̘͝ͅỌ̷̵͖̯͍̲̩̝̘̻̗̲͖̻̗̤̗͞͡͝ͅ**

"What? Oh, yeah, no problem." Karkat reached over to find the outlet for the man's charger, trying to not inwardly freak out at how it felt for their hands to briefly touch. The human was pretty much solid muscle, with a handsome, rugged face and a sweet eyepatch. Karkat willed for his blood pusher to stop pounding and for his hands to stop sweating, to no avail. "I-I, uh, I'm Karkat," he started awkwardly.

"Snake. Solid Snake."

Anna


	3. Chapter 3

There was something off about him, maybe it was the way his eyes looked so innocent when he looked at him, or maybe it was the fact that he was crawling on the ceiling in a bright red suit like some sort of... spider, or something. He dropped down from the ceiling, nervously blushing he said, taking off his mask, "Sorry, Sorry! I know I shouldn't be in here it's just, I don't like swinging in the rain since it's dangerous, and I _always_ put safety first, and this was the only place open, and I couldn't see, and my uncle died, and, and.." Then he began to cry. Jeff Goldblum looked at him with eyes of passion. "Listen kid, it's alright. I'm here, Jeff Goldblum the greatest actor to ever live. It's gonna be alright kid just let it all out." The boy cried, not knowing when to stop he just held on to the great actor and wept.

"You have a name kid, or what do they call you huh, some sort of uh spider-man or somethin?"

"Parker, sir." The boy responded, "Peter Parker."

"Peter Parker huh, Well why don't you spend the night kiddo, I think we're gonna get along just fine uh yeeter barker." Peter was too happy to correct him, besides he was about to spend the night in the penthouse of his idol. It was nothing short of a miracle to him, in a world where he stood out, Jeff Goldblum made him feel in. Jeff Goldblum turned around right before he left the doorway and looked at Peter. He then hit the whip and walked out again. Peter was flabbergasted, what the fuck just happened. Why the fuck did he whip? This shit makes no sense. Is this Canon? Whatever. Anyways. Peter got over his confusion and walked around the room admiring all the pictures. Every frame had a photoshoped picture of Jeff Goldblum's face on skeletor's face. What the fuck is going on Peter thought. His idol was turning out to be some sort of freak.

Paul


End file.
